A Not so Average Adventure
by Hex Dragon
Summary: Allan G. Grevus intended to finally make something of himself when he started his Pokemon Journey. Getting more than you bargained for is the nature of life, ain't it? R&R. Rated for language and possibly violence/adult themes.


A not-so-average adventure

Badges Saga

Newbie Arc

Hex dragon: Okay, I've torn the old bit down; I can't properly get myself out of the situation I wrote myself into. Hopefully, I'll update more now. I'm also putting up some info on my profile about this. Sorry about using the aliases so much, but I'm trying to conceal the identities of those characters (although they're not too hard to identify, no, the relationships between the characters in each second section have nothing to do with the anime or games). Reviews are nice, and I don't mind flames so long as their backed up by evidence, and a solution to my mistake is supplied. I'll be placing extra stuff about this into my profile, so have a look if you want.

Chapter 1: Introducing...

_'__Darkness is coming..__Well, really, that's a given... The current situation is grim, heaps of evil stuff is about to come out of the woodwork to greet their masters, the evil stuff will screw around with civilization until the masters come... at which point in time, we're all dead. Meanwhile, on a lighter note, a new batch of trainers is being churned out of the 'factory', so that might be interesting to watch before the doomsday event.__'_

POV- Omniscient Narrator

A hobby; that's what it was meant to be; something to give him a bit of interest and get him away from those damn video games. Those were the main points why Allan's parents had originally sent him to the hour long seminar on how and why to plan for one's pokémon journey. It was to psych him up for the event in the few months to come, not for him to shift his obsession to. Indeed, those few months had passed by, and tomorrow would be the last day at school for him. His marks were still stable As, and his teachers still disliked the way he drifted through class, seeming not to listen. During the two months, Allan had acquired a small collection of maps, a fossil, multiple TMs and a custom pokétch, equipped with a scanner program, which he put all his maps into, along with some other pieces of information he'd need on his journey.

At home, Allan seemed to be more... well, sombre would be the word that seemed to fit; his expression was noticeably more serious and he visited his friends less. His parents worried a little, but hey, 'he's a teenager, changes happen', hell, at least he hadn't gone the opposite way and ended up joining a gang. The fact that there were no gangs in Crimson City was irrelevant. Funnily enough, Allan hadn't changed, indeed, his patience for the maps and long pages of information was running dangerously thin. He wanted to go out and have fun with his friends, at least, those he had left; those who stood by him through his time ignoring them, even if this was only because he was one of the few who'd associate with them. Well, it didn't matter, he doubted he'd see many, if any, on the adventure. He'd started to feel sick over the pasts few weeks; late nights, sheets and sheets of data, that god-damn nightmare over and over, it was almost too much. If he had to keep this up much longer, he knew he'd go insane, the point was that he didn't. Using the final map he'd collated, he'd avoid all those places that played with a trainer's mind; Route 607, The City of Lost Causes, Trekking Wood, Sea Route 592 (AKA Tentacruel ally), he'd be able to stand at the end of Wilting Cave and yell 'SUCKERS' as the first of his classmates came through if he really wanted to. He didn't. When he finally faced them at the league matches, if they ever made it there, he'd be the one to come out on top. The world would be his Cloyster, and he'd be the one with the Manectric baton passed mean look...

_**The World Turns**_

Someone had taken the bother to write up rules on the wall this time, obviously intending to be humorous.1. Nobody talks about the Overview Club2. No playing silly buggers in the Game Room3. No cheating4. Everyone entering must bring food or drink, Pie is good5. Everything that happens the Game Room stays in the Game Room6. All Aliases must relate to your real identity7. There is no number 78. If you enter the Overview Club, there is no going back9. The pieces aren't toys10. Have fun, it's only the world, no pressure

Dr. Night sighed. This was his 105th term in the Overview club, and he was getting rather tired of the antics of the members. It wasn't as bad back when Ol' Musy was the head, he wasn't too serious, but anyone messing around was quickly silenced (although it never worked on him, he was a special case), and if you had any problems with another person, you took it outside. Now, you couldn't talk to the person next to you without making four or five enemies. Dr. Night was one of the most senior members of the club, and he still got on well enough with the other members. All the younger members either seemed to take everything personally or were pranksters who didn't know what 'too far' was. He doubted the club would last another term, if the private wars didn't end it, the Doctor suspected someone would find out about it, and they'd have a true war on they're hands.

The door swung open slowly, seemingly of its own accord,

"Thank you Jeeves."

"My pleasure sir, would you like to take a seat?"

"No thank you, I'd rather not."

The kindly Slowking, who maintained the Mansion the Club held its meetings at, bowed and led him to his spot around the huge table. The table was rectangular, and to give one an idea of how large it was, it could easily sit many Lugias. The mansion was out in the middle of nowhere, so size didn't matter. Nor sound for that matter.

In the middle of the table was a giant hologram projector, currently displaying the globe, as hologram projectors do whilst they have spare time. Suddenly, the projection vanished, and all present turned their attentions to the door leading into the mansion flew open. A supposedly charismatic voice (although it always reminded Dr. Night of a ringmaster; it made him feel like a circus act; possibly a clown) then spoke loudly over the dead silence, as only one with a specific personality can.

"Ladies, Gents and those who have not disclosed their gender, let the Overview Club's 1327th Dark Times Ahead Meet COMMENCE!"

_**The world turns**_

Allan sighed. He'd never been one for parties, nor had he been one for tradition, but the final day of school party was going to happen, whether he liked it or not. The main reason it would happen was the threat of not getting a pokémon if you jig school and you don't get a good excuse from your guardian (or doctor). Of course, not everyone intended to go on a journey; indeed, at least 60 of grade 9 would not be going. Of course, many of them were forced into this by parents or unfortunate circumstances, such as having a brother/sister already on an adventure. That choice had been one of the most controversial choices by the league, but everyone agreed that there were too many trainers on the roads, and there were many professions, mainly those that focused on (non-pokémon centre) medical work and craftsmanship, that were... well... dying, since they really didn't have much contact with pokémon. Allan really didn't care, he was an only child. Speaking of year nine, the age that an adventure was able to be started had been raised by four years; no arguments from almost anyone, it was getting more dangerous than ever, many gangs were now roaming the roads ever since the money cuts to the police force.

Well, his situation was this; he was on his laptop, doin' his late-night grind around the forums. He sent a few messages to the forums he liked less, signifying that he'd only be 'posting sporadically', and to a few others that he liked more, he was firmer in their good-byes 'I'll see you on the other side'. A storm started outside, and he listened to the melody of rain-drops across the roof. Definitely a much better background than Nincadas humming. A bit of thunder rumbled, and he smiled, since he doubted he'd ever have to camp in a storm like this. Switching on his Pokétch, he listened to a few tunes; he'd always been considered a weirdo when it came to music, but he knew what he liked. Alternative rock featured heavily.

He went over his 'plan' once more in his head,

_Step 1: __Pick up starter, priority; __Farfetch'd__, Mudkip, __Thore, __Chimchar_. The order of who got what was decided by how well the person did at school; Allan had pretty good marks and few people liked Farfetch'd, he'd be fine on this part.

_Step 2: Run through towns using map _As Already explained earlier, Allan had jotted out a map of the Region, and used almost an 'as the crow flies' method of going from town to town, even skipping a few rest stops that would be critical for other pathes.

_Step 3: Train pokémon in 'Cheap Places' _Allan had researched what pokémon appeared where, and found about 5 or 6 places that really worked for training.

_Step 4: Get badges using 'Advanced methods' _A complete waste of time school had not been; The library had been very helpful _Note to self: Thank Librarian for her helpfulness. _Gym leaders generally were told to go easy on badge-collecting trainers in comparison with battling against others of their calibre.

_Step__ 5 Go to Pre__lim League _Every year, on the 19th of May, the 'Prelim League' was held. Only people with 8 badges were allowed to participate, and it pitted you against other trainers with 8 badges in a knock-out tournament. There was either a few 'seeded' people, who got to miss out on some of the battles, or the battles were straight. Generally, this event took a few weeks.

_Step 6: Beat people's asses in_Allan had watched the matches on TV long ago, and generally did the 'you call that a strategy? Even I could teach you a few tricks' rant.

_Step 7: Beat Elite F__our_The final 'Test' to become a Pokémon Master, the Elite Four and Champion were incredibly powerful, although Allan was damn confident in his abilities.

_Step 8???_

_Step 9: PROFIT!!_

_**The World Turns**_

The storm raged outside the mansion, like it always did on the first meeting of the term, the Leader picked the first big storm on the horizon to hold it, so he could be dramatic, and impress the slower members. Dr. Night sat impatiently as the leader made his speech about duty, honour, good sportsmanship, ambition, blood, sacrifice and his love of daisies (The last one may have been a figment of the good Dr.'s imagination; he wasn't paying attention). It was the one he had made for the last 36 terms (although the latter four were added in over time, the new leader's lack of creativity was now masked in what he called 'tradition'), it was the one Musy had made on the final night of his leadership, a few hours before, after an argument with the current leader, had stormed out, but not before bringing the house down with his 'true' final speech, which was more of an insult directed at all members in general and their vices.

Afterwards, Dr. Night and his friend '120' had found him crying in anger and despair at what the club had truly become, and they listened. His words were unsettling. Dr. Night never looked at the club in the same way again. He had been a good friend of Musy, even though they often didn't see eye to eye (indeed, ironically, Dr. Night had once been arrogant and selfish, he often used his power with the club for personal gain, although he wasn't what one would call 'a bad sort'). Whenever he went to the Club, the words his old friend had whispered to him, after he finally stopped crying, still haunted him;

_"__Whatever happened to us__, Doctor__ ... We used to be doing this for the good of __anyone in trouble; the greater good. N__ow look at us; we push and shove for things that even the lowliest caterpie can see are not worth fighting over. Every time I make a decision; I'm over-ruled by someone, whether it be because it inconveniences them, or benefits someone they have a grudge against. When the __curtain finally closes on this place__, it won'__t be because of me Doctor__, I'll be well out of here. I'll be doing something I haven't done in many years; I'm going to help a very special person; myself. I've tried and tried to do things for the greater good, __but it seems there's no greater good to do things for anymore, all it is, is people who want to get things from you, then stab you in the back. I ho__pe you manage to get out too Doctor__, you're too good for them.__ Tell the gang, Watches, __Concert, Blossom, __Red, Blue, D.D., Wishy, __even Onion-head__ that too...__ yes, even with his twisted sense of humour and strange bel__iefs, he is the god of gods compared to those__ who control what we do__ now__ Dr. Night, I__ entrust you as a witness for this__, your possibly the only one who won't try to convince yourself that this isn't true__. I resign, not only my leadership, but by membership as well__..."_

That had been the last thing he heard from the old leader, the rumour was he committed suicide. There was another (no guesses who started it) that he'd joined the enemy, and was now supplying them with information. 120 had left not long after Musy, and slowly but surely, the original members were whittled down to a handful and anyone still remaining who was once a friend of Musy, or even knew of the events back then and wasn't completely loyal to the club was demonised; new members were told to watch out for them, and blame was often put on them when things went wrong. The Doctor once took a lot of fire, although he seemingly proved his loyalty, and the new leader fell for his 'I shall always be loyal to you now' act. He would have left long ago, if it wasn't for the fact that he needed to keep an eye on it, possibly the innocent from being corrupted by others. He was the one who watched the young members out of the corner of his eye, and gave them moral advice when others weren't looking.

And new members came often in comparison to before; the new leader opened up the club to a much larger group, since he cared more about the 'fees' and having more members for the game, as opposed to having members who'd be constructive and be able to play skilfully or at least learn quickly. The Doctor also suspected he was also trying to outdo his predecessor and appear to be an improvement. The new members weren't here for what the club was originally meant to be, but were in for 'the game'. It had almost completely take over what the overview club was about. It was a form of betting, only without cheating; you could do whatever you wanted to help along your bet, but so could everyone else. It used to be that this was a way to pass time; you bet trivial amounts, and the main point was to help people out and watch how people reacted when they received the help. Now, the bets were everything and nothing was sacred when it came to picking a target. It could be from which cancer patient died first, to the amount of students graduating from college. The betters didn't seem to care about the subjects either unlike they did back when the club was young; it wasn't a matter of helping the target, so much as screwing over their rivals (or rigging whatever). Much grief had been caused, and Dr. Night had long since departed from the cruel game. However, now he had a reason to join, the leader (whom never let anyone refer to him as anything but 'The leader') was going to bet in the next round, which Dr. Night could easily use to his advantage. He already knew what the subjects would be, and the Leader had truly gone too far; he was effectively setting the members on children. Fortunately, Dr. Night had already sealed his win.

_**The world turns**_

POV- Allan

_A screech in the night, full moon above, my mind reels at the obvious evil that oozes from my surroundings. From the rocks and __tropical __trees that border the__ dirt__ path that I stand on__ and spatter the path with shadows__to the five tribal statues (that resemble giant heads with closed eyes and a range of expressions from evil smiles to sheer rage) that face me, everything radiates wickedness. A rustle in the bushes behind me... I turn, and hear an eerie voice from behind, it's deep and smooth, yet unsettling._

_"Fool."_

_I turn again; the statue's eyes are now open and glowing an malevolent red. The rustle again, and I realize it's coming. I run back, ignoring the heads, but I hear it coming. It comes for me. I know. I'm the only one it can still come for. It will devour me if it catches me._

_"Running is futile."_

_The voice comes from next to my ear. I turn my head, but nothing... I know I've made a mistake, I hesitated, and now it will catch me._

_A growl comes from behind me._

_I turn slowly..._

POV- Omniscient Narrator

Allan slowly came to his senses. The nightmare was the same as it had been for the past month besides the voice. He theorized that it was a metaphor for that event five years ago; he was attacked by a wild houndour in the park, the path and trees were what the park was like back then, the faces were strangers who stood by and watched until it was virtually upon him. He'd been savaged pretty badly, but there'd be no lasting psychological or physical damage, so they said. He was still scared shitless by them.

* * *

So, how did you like it 

Snapshot of next time (may or may not be word for word):

Chapter 2: The Doctor-side Gambit

Each member looked around; there were approximately 90 choices and no more than one person per choice, there were 79 people in the club. The leader would have first choice, there'd be a few quick add ups (although it really didn't matter what they were like, the punters would be moulding them anyway), a mad dash to get the most privileged, then afterwards the leader would receive all if the remainders succeeded. Mostly meaningless statistics were listed alongside the mug shots, the winnings would be whatever was in the pot. The leader cleared his throat and announced his subject (or what the members colloquially called Avatars).

"I place 300 on 18; Robin Quincy."

Many murmured as people do when an interesting announcement is made. Robin Quincy looked the underdog; his parents were dead, he wasn't the brightest bulb and he wasn't very sporty, although he was indeed very enthusiastic. He was a perfect bet, since it was known that being the complete underdog meant SOMETHING was going to happen, or the world just simply wouldn't be working. Besides, the dumber someone is, the less likely their going to realize something amiss. 300 was a very large amount, possibly the highest on record. He was probably attempting to overwhelm the others.

* * *

Hex dragon: So, how do you like it so far? If you have any questions that you don't want to say in a review, email me. This story isn't canon, I'm openly admitting that many things in this don't work with the game or the anime, but I'll try to keep it close(r). 


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